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Reading for Children 



HISTORY. 



ANTHONY BURNS. 

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CAMBRIDGE : 

JOHN WILSON AND SON. 

5!anibcrsttg i^rrs*. 

1886. 






Copyright, iS86, by N. Moore. 



ANTHONY BURNS. 

1854. 

I. 

At about eight o'clock one evening in May, 
1854, a man, returning late from his work, 
walked hurriedly up Court Street. 

He was glad to be hidden by the falling 
dusk ; yet the darkness had its dangers, and 
he glanced into the shadowed door-ways, as 
he passed, with fear. 

He might well be afraid ; he was Anthony 
Burns, the fugitive slave. He had escaped 
from Richmond some months before, and had 
come to Boston, hoping that here he could call 
himself free. But not in Boston was freedom 
to be found. The Fugitive Slave Law ruled 
instead. This law allowed a master to claim 
his slave in any part of the nation to which 
the friendless creature might have fled. It 



4 

forbade men to give to the fugitive any aid, 
shelter, or succor. Anthony Burns might foil 
his pursuers, but no one could lawfully shield 
him from them. Even in liberty-loving Mas- 
sachusetts no man could openly defy them: the 
law was on their side. 

Burns, fearing betrayal, kept his story to 
himself. He knew that he could earn his living 
wherever he might be, for while he was in Rich- 
mond he had helped earn a living for his master. 
In Richmond his wasfes had G^one into another 
man's purse ; in Boston they would be his own 
to spend or save. He found work with Coffin 
Pitts on Brattle Street, and was going on this 
May evening from Brattle Street to his lodg- 
ings, which were in a different part of the city. 

As he hastened through Court Street a 
sound of running came from behind him. The 
footsteps overtook him ; a rough hand seized 
his shoulder. 

"Stop, old fellow!" cried a voice at his ear. 
" You broke into the silver-smith's shop last 
night." 



5 

Burns denied it. Turning, he saw six men 
at his back. 

" You must come along with us," said they ; 
*' and if you are not the one we want, we will 
let you go." 

Among them they pressed him onward, not 
to a police court, not to a jail, but into the 
Boston Court House. There he would be 
under United States' control. 

Waiting there, supperless, for the *' silver- 
smith" to arrive. Burns began to suspect the 
truth. It was no silver-smith who was to 
confront him, but a dealer in other w^ares. 
Some slave-hunter, perhaps, from Richmond, 
or, worse still, his master. Colonel Suttle, from 
the plantation at Alexandria. 

After a time steps came down the passage. 
The door opened, and a man, entering, spoke 
his name. 

At the sound of that voice Burns's courage 
died within him. He felt himself a slave again ; 
and in the slave's phrase, he answered, " How 
do you do. Master Charles ? " 



6 

It was indeed Colonel Suttle who stood 
before him. 

On Colonel Suttle's plantation lived a brother 
of Anthony Burns. Anthony had written to 
this brother, and the letter had fallen into 
Colonel Suttle's hands. A letter sent to a 
freeman would not have been opened by any 
third person: the law forbade. A letter sent 
to a slave found no safeguard in the law. 
Colonel Suttle took Burns's letter, broke its 
seal, read the contents, and was soon on his 
way to the North. 

The letter had been sent to Canada and 
mailed again from there to Alexandria, so that 
it bore a Canada postmark; but it was headed 
" Boston," and told that Burns was at work for 
Coffin Pitts. 

Colonel Suttle, therefore, had little trouble 
in tracing Burns, and was so sure of being able 
to seize him that he waited for several days, 
forming all his plans before making any at- 
tempt to arrest him. He was told that a room 
in the Court House would be set apart for the 



7 

safe-keeping of the prisoner, and also found 
that he could secure a revenue cutter — a gov- 
ernment vessel — in which to carry Burns away 
when the trial should be over. 

The scheme was ripe ; and now Anthon}^ 
Burns stood face to face witli his master. 

To show the by-standers that Burns knew 
him, and would not deny his claim. Colonel 
Suttle tried to make Burns talk. 

"Anthony," he said, " how came you here } " 

Burns muttered something about its being 
an accident, — he was working on board a ves- 
sel, got tired, fell asleep, and was carried away. 

"Did I ever whip you.?" continued Colonel 
Suttle. 

" No, sir." 

" Did I ever hire you out when you did not 
wish to go ? " 

" No, sir." 

" When you were sick, did I not prepare you 
a bed in my own house, and put you upon it 
and nurse you ? " 

" Yes, sir." 



8 

" Are you willing to go back ? " 

" Yes, sir." 

"Do you think I shall have any trouble in 
taking you back ? " 

" I don't know, sir." 

This was enous^h ; Colonel Suttle turned to 



*iD' 



go- 



"I make you no promises, and I make you 
no threats," he said, and left the room. 

Through the night Burns had time to weigh 
his master's words. No threats were needed; 
he knew what was done to rebellious slaves, — 
prison, or the lash awaited them. There were 
stories of slaves who had been beaten to death. 

To oppose Colonel wSuttle might double the 
punishment; to submit might lessen it, — this 
idea now filled his mind, deadening it to all 
other thoughts. He was benumbed and stupe- 
fied with despair. 

In the morning, the men who came to fetch 
him found him quiet and dull. Though he 
offered no resistance, they fastened iron hand- 
cuffs upon his wrists. Then they led him into 



9 

the court-room, and seated him in the prison- 
er's dock. 

If all went well for his master, the trial would 
be rushed to an end that very day. All had 
gone well for Colonel Suttle thus far, but he 
was not to carry Burns off so easily. Word of 
the arrest had reached the ears of a few earnest 
men, and, unknown to Burns as he sat there 
alone and forlorn, the first stir of a mighty 
protest had already begun. 

The court -room filled. Burns, looking 
toward the door, saw a man of his own color 
coming toward him. 

One of the guards objected when this man 
wished to draw near the prisoner, but another 
allowed him speech. He w^as a minister, a Mr. 
Grimes. 

Mr. Grimes talked with Burns for a few 
moments ; then there was a slight bustle in 
the court-room ; the Commissioner had come 
in and was taking his seat. 

Mr. Grimes ceased speaking, and some one 
else drew near. This was Theodore Parker. 



lO 

Something in Mr. Parker's voice and manner 
made Burns, dazed as he was, Hsten to his 
words. 

" I am a minister," said Mr. Parker, " I have 
been made minister-at-large in behalf of fugi- 
tive slaves. Do you not want counsel ? " 

For Burns, as yet, had no counsel, and un- 
less he asked in court that some one should 
defend his case, no one would be appointed. 

"Do you not want counsel.^" said Theodore 
Parker. 

" I shall have to go back," muttered Burns. 
" If I must go back, I want to go back as easy 
as I can ; " and his eyes turned restlessly 
toward his master. 

A third adviser pressed forward to urge and 
persuade ; this was Wendell Phillips. Burns 
was not friendless now. 

" It can do you no harm to make a defence," 
persisted Mr. Parker. 

Burns yielded at last. " You may do as you 
have a mind to about it," he said to them, weari- 
ly. Soon after that the examination began. 



II 

Burns sat with half unheeding ears. He 
heard presently : " Time should be allowed the 
prisoner to recover himself. . . . He is . . . 
not in a state to say what he wishes to do. 
. . . He does not know what he is saying." 
The speaker was Mr. Dana. Mr. Dana and 
Mr. Ellis were ready to act as his counsel if 
only he would say that he wished defence. 

Then the judge ordered the prisoner to be 
brought to him. Burns rose, and the officers 
led him to the judge's bench. 

^'You may have counsel if you wish it," 
said the judge; he pointed to Mr. Dana and 
Mr. Ellis. Burns glanced up timidly, but did 
not speak. 

The judge asked again, " Would you like 
counsel ? " 

Burns looked piteously into the judge's face, 
then at his master. Back and forth his glance 
wavered, until, turning wholly away from Sut- 
tle, he muttered something under his breath. 

The judge looked doubtful, but said, "An- 
thony, I understand you to say you would." 



12 

" I should," said Burns, in a stronger tone. 

" Then you shall have it," said Judge Loring. 
Burns returned to his seat. 

Mr. Dana and Mr. Ellis asked for time for 
consultation with their client. Colonel Suttle's 
counsel fought against delay, but delay was 
granted. The trial was postponed, and Burns 
was taken back to his room. 



13 
II. 

The news of the capture spread throughout 
the city. The excitement became intense. 

The Vigilance Committee spent a day in 
consultation. Money was raised with the 
hope that Burns might be bought; but Colonel 
Suttle, who at first had seemed willing to 
sell, finally refused to yield Burns upon any 
terms. What then could be done ? 

A rescue was not impossible. Fresh in mind 
was the rescue of Shadrach, a fugitive who 
had been imprisoned in that very Court House 
three years before. A party of men had then 
burst into the court-room and swept Shadrach 
away without striking a blow. Here were men 
ready to do the same for Burns. Burns was 
more strongly guarded ; but these were men who 
were held in high esteem, and who were well 
known to the city officials. It seemed to them 
that they might surround Burns, quell resist- 
ance by their very presence, and, with the 



14 

authority of right, wrest him from the hold of 
that shameful law. But how to reach him ? 
Hours went by, and nothing was settled. Late 
in the afternoon, however, a few of the com- 
mittee agreed that an attempt should be made. 

Their plan was this. A great indignation 
meeting was to be held that night at Faneuil 
Hall. While all good Abolitionists would be 
supposed to be at the meeting, a few stanch 
men were to be ready for an attack upon the 
Court House. Word of the attack was to be 
carried to the hall ; the large audience, it was 
thought, would rush to Court Square; there 
would be an overwhelming crowd ; the guard 
would be powerless before it. Burns could be 
hurried from the building and set upon his 
way to Canada before the morning. Wendell 
Phillips did not know of the plan ; Parker did, 
but apparently not very clearly. 

Evening came. Faneuil Hall was filled. 
Samuel E. Sewall called the meeting to order, 
George R. Russell was president, William I. 
Bowditch and Robert Morris were chosen 



15 

secretaries. Theodore Parker and Wendell 
Phillips were among the speakers. 

" See to it," said Wendell Phillips from the 
platform, "that to-morrow, in the streets of Bos- 
ton, you ratify the verdict of Faneuil Hall, that 
Anthony Burns has no master but his God." 

" Fellow-subjects of Virginia," began Theo- 
dore Parker, " Fellow-citizens of Boston, then: 
A deed which Virginia commands has been 
done in the city of John Hancock and the 
' brace of Adamses.' . . . It is our own fault 
that it is so. . . . Gentlemen, there is no 
Boston to-day. There was a Boston once ; 
now there is a north suburb to the city of 
Alexandria. . . . Now, I want to ask you 
what you are going to do? [Here a voice 
cried, " Shoot ! shoot ! "] There are ways of 
managing this matter without shooting any- 
body, ... if we stand up there resolutely, and 
declare that this man shall not go out of Bos- 
ton, without shooting a gun [this was received 
with great applause and cries of " That's it ! "] 
then he won't go back. Now, I am going to 



i6 

propose that when you adjourn, it be to meet 
at Court Square, to-morrow morning, at nine 
o'clock." 

A few in the audience shouted, " Let's go 
to-night!" 

Wendell Phillips, springing to his feet 
again, bade them "wait until the day-time," 
saying, " The zeal that won't keep till to-mor- 
row will never free a slave ! " 

*' The Court House is now being attacked ! " 
called a voice from the door-way. 

" To Court Square," shouted others, in reply. 

To Court Square the audience streamed, 
the greater part to look on ; a few, probably, 
to lend a hand. They were too late. The 
attempt was tliwarted before they arrived. 
Had Faneuil Hall been arranged as it now 
is, with a separate access to the platform, it 
is very likely that the whole attack would have 
turned out differently. Then there was no 
separate entrance ; so that the people on and 
around the platform, who were the most zeal- 
ous, had to wait while the whole crowded audi- 



^7 

ence of more indifferent people left the hall 
and partly blocked Court Square. 

One who was at the Square during the 
attack saw a dozen or fourteen men wrench a 
heavy beam from the staircase of the Muse- 
um Building, opposite the Court House, and 
charge it, end foremost, against the Court House 
door. 

Again and again they drew off and charged, 
hoping to break through the door. The 
sound of the blows echoed through the night, 
and the bell of the Court House rang out 
a loud alarm. Suddenly the heavy folding 
doors gave way. The men, dropping the 
beam, rushed up the steps to the threshold. 
Upon the threshold they were met by the 
Marshal and his assistants, who were guarding 
the entrance from within. 

Shots were heard ; then the attacking party 
fell back, only two having got inside.^ 

One of the Marshal's men had been killed ; 
by whom or how is not yet fully known. The 

1 These two were T. W. Higginson and a colored man. 



i8 

open doorway seemed inviting the rescuers to 
enter, but no aid came from the hall, or from 
those in the square, and those who had made 
the breach were too few to do anything more. 

They gathered, waiting and doubtful, below 
the steps, while the Marshal and his men with- 
drew to the inner stairway of the Court House 
and covered all approach with their cutlasses 
and revolvers. 

There was a pause, a hush. 

Then came the quick tread of a squad of 
police. Laying about them with their clubs, 
the officers scattered the crowd, marched up 
the Court House steps, closed the door anew, 
and the affair was ended. 

All chance of rescue was gone, for now 
Marshal Freeman called United States troops 
to his aid. " That very night a force of ma- 
rines was marched over from the Charlestown 
Navy Yard. In the morning a detachment 
of troops arrived from Fort Independence. . . . 
The Mayor of Boston applied for the aid 
of the State Militia. . . . The militia held the 



19 

streets while the United States troops held the 
Court House." ' 

Again was the Court House barred with 
chains as when Sims was imprisoned there. 
The court-room, on the days of the trial was 
packed with armed men. Soldiers guarded 
the door. 

The trial was to have been held on Satur- 
day, but was postponed once more to the fol- 
lowing w^eek. It lasted through Monday, 
Tuesday, and Wednesday. 

On Friday, Judge Loring's decision was 
pronounced. 

1 Frothingham's " Life of Theodore Parker." 



20 



III. 



■ In the early days of the excitement a sum- 
mons had been sent to the people of the 
country towns, urging their presence in the 
city that they might show by their numbers 
the strength of the feeling against a law which 
could condemn a fellow-being to so cruel a 
fate. 

The summons read : "... Come down 
then, Sons of the Puritans ! For even if the 
poor victim is to be carried off by the brute 
force of arms, and delivered over to slavery, 
you should at least be present to witness the 
sacrifice, . . . and then go home and take 
such action as your manhood and your patriot- 
ism may suggest. . . . Come with courage 
in your hearts, but this time with only such 
arms as God gave you ! " 

In answer to the summons thousands had 
thronged the streets during the days of the 
trial ; on Friday, the crowd was denser than 



21 

ever. They could only stand as silent pro- 
testing witnesses; for armed guards met them 
at every turn ; any attempt at violence would 
have been wholly useless. 

At half past seven a cannon was brought into 
the Square, and planted a little south of the 
eastern entrance. It was to subdue the crowd. 

Burns, waiting in the Court House to be 
taken for the last time before the judge, could 
not tell how^ the day would end. It might 
give him freedom, it might send him back to 
slavery. His counsel, Mr. Dana, and many 
other people thought that, as the case stood, 
the judge might decide either way. A few 
hours would show. 

Nine o' clock came. Burns w^as taken into 
the court-room and the judge began his ad- 
dress. Burns gave heed now to every word. 

The judge carefully retold the facts of the 
case as they had come out in the course of the 
trial. He repeated the words that had passed 
between Burns and Colonel Suttle on the 
night of Burns's arrest. When he came to 



22 

Colonel Suttle's question, "Are you willing 
to go back ? " and Burns's answer, " Yes, sir," 
Burns, from the prisoner's stand, shook his 
head earnestly in denial. 

It was a long address : at last the decision 
came. It was against the prisoner. 

The Fugitive Slave Law had won. Burns 
heard himself declared to be the slave of 
Colonel Suttle, to be rendered into Colonel 
Suttle's hands and withdrawn from the city 
whensoever Colonel Suttle willed. 

Then the officers again took him in charge ; 
hurried him back to his room and kept him 
there while the streets were made ready for 
his removal. 

Soldiers marched down Court Street, cleared 
Court Square, posted guards at every entrance, 
and stretched a close row of armed men along 
each side of the entire route. With their 
backs to the thronged sidewalks and their 
faces toward the middle of the street, these 
soldiers formed a guarded lane through which 
an unhindered passage could be secured. 



23 

While the authorities were thus faithful in 
carrying out the law, other men were lamenting 
their city's shame. Stores near the Court 
House were closed ; no business could be at- 
tended to, and when the decision was made 
known, one building after another on Court 
Street and Court Square hung out signs of 
mourning/ Flags draped with black floated 
from the office of the " Commonwealth, " lines 
of crape were stretched across the street. 

A bell pealed in slow and solemn strokes ; 
it was the bell of the Brattle Street Church, 
rung by a man who had been let into the 
church in secret, and locked in for safety. 

It tolled as for a public grief. Other church 
towers took up the knell ; the faces in the 
streets were sorrowful and stern.^ 

Those who had pressed near enough saw^ 
the Court House doors thrown open, and the 
United States troops file out. Following the 
troops came twenty special officers, heavily 

1 J. A. Andrews's office among the rest. 

2 The Mayor, it is said, when asked if the bells might be tolled, 
refused with a stamp of the foot. They were tolled, notwithstanding 



24 

armed : they formed a hollow square before the 
eastern entrance. Burns was then brought 
forward by Marshal Freeman and placed within 
the hollow square. 

Surrounded, first by the Marshal and his 
aids, then by the twenty officers, with soldiers 
before and behind. Burns was carried through 
the streets. Groans and hisses came from the 
crowds that lined the way. It must be recorded 
that there were cheers as well. 

As a last means of creating confusion and 
effecting a rescue, the new fire alarm was 
struck just as the procession was about to move. 
The engine tore down State Street, through 
the lines of soldiers and the crowds of citi- 
zens, . . . but the sudden irruption passed, 
the lines closed up, and the iron phalanx was 
unbroken.' 

The procession reached Long Wharf. At 
the side of Long Wharf was T Wharf, where 
lay the steamer" John Taylor "and the revenue 
cutter " Morris." Burns, still guarded by the 

1 Frothingham's " Life of Theodore Parker." 



25 

troops, was put on board the steamer, then 
secretly placed in the cutter, his captors 
fearing to let the people know which vessel 
he was in. 

It was three o'clock when the ships moved 
off. The cutter carried Burns to months 
of cruel suffering in southern prisons ; the 
steamer went a short distance down the har- 
bor, and then returned to Castle Island with 
the troops. 

The struggle was over. Burns was gone. 
The crowd in the streets grew gradually less. 
Quiet settled over the city. 

It was a defeat for the Abolitionists : an 
unjust law had been maintained; but the 
enforcing of the law in the rendition of An- 
thony Burns w^as one step toward the down- 
fall of slavery. Judge Shaw said, " No law can 
stand another such strain." He was right ; 
the sturdy will of the people had made itself 
felt, and the test was not applied again. Burns 
was the last man sent back into slavery by 
a Boston court. 



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